'How long did it take you to get here? How did you get out?' I fire the questions at Zamuel, I can't help myself. My curiosity just overcomes me, even though I know it shouldn't.

I can see out of the corner of my eye that Finnegan still eyes Zamuel with caution, as if he expects him to sprout 10 arms any second and kill us in less than a minute.

What is up with him?

'It must've taken me a few hours to get here. I dragged myself.' Zamuel winces as he pulls himself up against a tree, and I steady him.

I'll ask him more when I've healed him a bit, I'm sure. I'm not much of a healer, but I can try.

I use the supplies we have; a tiny bit of the no pain medicine from the very heart of the Cornucopia, and then use some of the supply of bandages we also have.

I'll give him sleep syrup later to get him to sleep. I'm sure if we had none he'd not sleep a wink. We're so lucky we have this stash, otherwise I'd most likely just have to watch Zamuel die, unless sponsors gave gifts, which I highly doubt they would for the benefit of someone they're not even sponsoring.

I leave Zamuel to rest for a while before my curiosity takes over and asks him on its own accord how he actually escaped.

'Well,' he says. He has much more colour in his face now, a good sign that he's getting a bit better. A tiny bit. 'Jacob was guarding the Cornucopia, and the Cornucopia is right by the main exit which you escaped from, so that was a no go. So I dragged myself through the tunnel system until I reached another exit away from him. I somehow managed to pull myself up, then a few hours later, I came here.'

'Are you angry that we left you?' I say quietly. Finnegan doesn't hear, he's too busy absentmindedly lightly tracing patterns into the tree which he leans against.

'No,' Zamuel shakes his head lightly. 'Of course not. You had no choice. I was going to be a goner.'

'I'm glad you think that. Thank you,' I glance above me. It's pitch black still. I smack my forehead. 'Of course, you must be exhausted.'

I give him small drops of syrup, but enough for what he needs, and he's out within ten minutes.

I look back at Finnegan.

'Finnegan,' I say sharply. He drops his little twig of wood in shock.

'What?'

'Someone needs to keep watch. Zamuel has no chance of getting up the tree. I volunteer to.'

'No,' he shakes his head more vigorously than Zamuel did earlier. 'I will.'

'Are you sure?'

'Positive. I insist.'

Of course he would. He still doesn't trust Zamuel, does he?

As if any mutt would put on a front like this, though. He's just being overly cautious.

I voice my thoughts out loud. At least, one of them. 'You still don't trust Zamuel, do you?' I say.

Finnegan leans his head back. 'And you honestly do?'

'You believe that he's a mutt?' I pass off his question.

'Only partly. You never know, do you? And anyway, if he isn't, you never know how trustworthy he even is,' my mouth drops open, but Finnegan continues regardless. 'Jacob could've bribed him. Zamuel spies for him, and Jacob spares him his life. Do you really think he dragged himself through the entire tunnel system?'

'Zamuel is my friend, I trust him!' I squeak out.

'We have no friends in the arena, Absidee. Shake some sense into yourself, will you? You're getting soft.'

Finnegan's harsh words sting like the pain of salt water in an open wound. What's changed for him in the past few hours?

'Soft?'

'Yes, soft. You trust anyone and everyone now, it seems. You immediately went to go and tend to Zamuel, not hesitating at all. It could've been anyone!' Finnegan's voice grows dangerously loud. I don't worry about Zamuel waking, but being caught by other tributes.

'What happened earlier, then? Did that Finnegan disappear? The one who challenged me to climb up that tree?'

'No, of course not. I was thinking about the incident earlier before I went to sleep, and realised that we are in the Hunger Games, Absidee. One small mistake could be your last. You seem to have forgotten that.'

Anger boils within me, twisting my insides. Why is he saying this?

'So you think I'm stupid, oblivious and nonchalant for these Games then?'

'You're none of that!'

'So you just don't like me?'

Finnegan casts me a look that clearly demonstrates how delusional he thinks I am. 'Are you being insane? I'm so angry at you for growing careless because I care about you so much!'

You could hear a pin drop. I gulp. Unspeaking. That's done it. If Zamuel really is a spy, I doubt he'll have swallowed that medicine. He could be just pretending to be asleep. Listening in.

He'll have so much to report back to Jacob.

I shake off the thought. He wouldn't.

'Right,' says Finnegan quietly. 'You should get to sleep.'

I still don't speak. Slowly climb into my sleeping bag. Close my eyes.

Dream happy dreams.

Wake up in hell.

I dream of a rooftop.

The orange sunset.

I'm sure these are Finnegan's dreams I'm experiencing. But no. I must've adopted a liking to the sunset as well, now.

I wake up to a dreary sky, the sun lazily hovering just below the tops of the trees which surround us.

It's surprisingly early, and yet I'm still not tired.

I head out to check our nets in an attempt to occupy myself. If I do nothing it won't be productive, and besides, my mind will wander and strange thoughts will crawl out of some crevice in the back of my brain.

We've managed to catch a few creatures, which is quite good, and no one's stolen them, or tainted them. At least, to my knowledge.

I hope that it'll be safe, though, as that's all I can do for now.

When I reach camp Zamuel and Finnegan are awake, Finnegan looking even more moody than yesterday.

'I've got food,' I say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. I don't succeed.

Finnegan smiles grimly at me. 'We can cook it over a small fire, away from here.'

I nod. 'Yeah.'

Me and Finnegan leave Zamuel to guard camp, much to Finnegan's disapproval, and head to cook our meat.

When we reach our desired spot we cook a little for a short amount of time over a small fire, talking a bit as we do so. Not about anything interesting, just where to place more traps etcetera.

'Damn,' I say all of a sudden with realisation. 'I've forgotten some of the meat. Give me a moment, and I'll be back in a few minutes.'

Finnegan frowns but nods. 'Alright.'

I turn, jogging over the soft grass of the woods. We haven't been bothered by any other tributes yet, really, much to our luck.

As I get tired of jogging I slow to a quick paced walk and gaze around myself for a few moments; at the sun rising in the sky, the wind swaying the branches

BOOM.

Someone's cannon fires.

I have no idea whose it is.

Jacob, 7, 3? Zamuel?

Finnegan?

I pray it isn't Finnegan and run towards our camp, fear making me bound towards my destination rather than walk as I was before, albeit quickly.

I burst through the trees and gasp at the sight before me.

It definitely isn't Finnegan.

I fall back and fall to my knees, running my hands roughly through my hair, muffled cries escaping my mouth as I cover it quickly.

Zamuel lies there, no wounds other than the ones he sustained from Jacob visible.

It was the food.

My food.

It's my fault.

Oh god.

Juice runs from some of the meat, and I know quickly what it is.

Nightlock.

Someone had the clever idea to somehow put nightlock in our catch.

Tears stream down my face, and I pound the floor. Zamuel was innocent, Zamuel killed no one, Zamuel was my friend.

Finnegan said we don't have friends in these Games. I think he's wrong.

Someone runs into our small clearing from behind me, and I feel completely defenceless. They can kill if they wish.

Just don't make it too painful.

'Absidee? Absidee! Oh my god,' arms scoop me up from behind and pull me into an embrace. 'I thought you were dead! Oh thank god so much.'

It's Finnegan. He kisses my head multiple times.

A sob escapes me and he stops.

'What's wrong?' he says. He can't have seen, can he? Otherwise he would know. He wouldn't completely ignore Zamuel's death, would he?

'Zamuel,' I point with one shaky hand.

'Oh...' is all he can say. He hugs me even tighter. We stay like this for minutes. I could stay like this for days.

'Are you okay?' he whispers in my ear.

I shake my head slowly.

'We should clear out before the Gamemakers make us,' he says, and I feel angry for a moment, before he says: 'make your last goodbyes long enough, but not too long. Say goodbye to him in your own way.'

I nod silently and trudge numbly over to Zamuel as Finnegan collects our belongings. Of course we'll move elsewhere. I won t be able to live here. The place where one of my friends died.

Zamuel looks so innocent, lying here in the grass. How could Finnegan have ever accused him of being a spy? It's beyond me.

His glassy eyes make me shudder. He's unseeing. He can't hear my goodbye, or see me one last time, I know, but I wish he could.

Oh, I wish he could.

'Oh, Zamuel,' I sigh, silent tears spilling over and down my cheeks. 'Why do the best have to go? Do you know? Why?'

I try to reserve myself for his family's sake. How could they be feeling? Broken. I feel only a small fraction of what they do.

I run a hand through his hair. 'Goodbye, Zamuel.'

Then I depart, taking one last glance before I pass through the trees.

After that, I don't look back once.

Finnegan grabs my hand.

'This way,' he says.